Razor Ch. 09

I really wanted to try to help Mary process her past, it had almost become an obsession of mine; I couldn't stop thinking about it. I was still worried that her problems would become my problems, but after a couple of sleepless nights it was clear that my conscience wouldn't let me walk away, not this time.

It wasn't just the story of her miserable life that pulled at my heartstrings, it was her complex personality, the way she managed to become such a caring person despite being so thoroughly broken on the inside. And god forbid it, but there was something about her that pulled at other parts of me too. Even with her awful choice of clothes there was something fundamentally feminine about her. She wasn't exactly beautiful; it was more that she was shining from some sort of sensual inner light. I couldn't really put my finger on it, there was quite frankly just something about Mary.

But at the same time as she drew me in, what she was, the way she had lived her life, made me pull back in horror. I knew that my very strict upbringing had a lot to do with my reactions, I hadn't completely freed myself from my father's influence it seemed. It made me really angry at myself, that I couldn't separate the essence of a person, the being, from the life choices that person had made, the doing. The constant measuring of people's true values was just too exhausting...

I looked at my wristwatch and realized it was soon time to meet her again, the woman who sent my thoughts spinning and brought my emotions up, down and up again. I could feel tension growing in my shoulder and neck area just thinking about meeting her once more. I stood up and moved my arms around to remove some of that tension, with a quick promise to myself, to make an appointment at the nearby massage parlor as soon as possible.

I literally jumped when I heard a terrible crashing, screaming, metal grinding sound from the street below and I ran up to my window to see where the sound came from and what had happened. It seemed a silver colored car had crashed straight into a concrete fundament just two houses away on the other side of the street. I ran back to my phone and called the emergency services. After quickly telling the woman on the phone about the accident, address and a few other details I walked back to the window.

I had stood by that window many times and let my thoughts wander after a long workday, and the picture of the outside world that met me now was both very familiar and strangely unfamiliar. The traffic had stopped completely in one direction and flowed slowly by in the other, people were standing by or running up to the wreckage; it was both calm and chaotic. The muffled sound of relative silence through my window sent shivers up my spine; it felt like an omen, the calm before the storm.

The sound of sirens helped settle my nerves; the help was coming, finally. I looked at the people who had gathered around the car, realizing that only a few seemed interested in trying to help and that the rest of them seemed intent on documenting the accident with their phones. It was times like these that made me despair upon the nature of humans; how could social media and the instant publishing of interesting pictures be more important than trying to help a fellow human being?

I saw a dark-haired woman stand by the driver side door of the car, first reaching her hands in through the broken window, probably to see if the driver was doing okay, then turning around, seemingly intent on blocking the view of the phone waving insta-maniacs. There was still some hope for humankind, I thought, all it took was one small act of human kindness, one tiny seed of compassion and love.

As I saw an ambulance and a police unit approaching the wrecked car I looked at my wristwatch again. It was three minutes past the time when Mary usually came walking through my door, but if I knew her right she was probably down there somewhere, trying to help in one way or the other.

I kept looking and worrying about the driver of the car. I hoped he or she was doing alright and I wondered what had happened, what had made the car hit the concrete wall at such a strange angle, was it because of a technical malfunction of the car, a seizure or some other acute illness, mobile phone fiddling whilst driving or maybe even drugs? I suspected I would never know.

A firetruck arrived at the scene and within minutes the car was opened up like a giant can of tuna. The medics started working fast, fixating the seemingly unconscious woman's back and neck, then preparing to lift her out of the car, and that's when I realized I knew who she was. I turned away from the window and ran out of my room. She was down there alright; she just wasn't her usual helpful self; this time it was she that needed the help of others.

I ran down the stairs, out of the building and across the street. I was met by organized chaos, with people nervously standing around watching, talking, some even crying, and firefighters, police officers and ambulance personnel going about their business in a well-choreographed dance. Everyone was just doing their job except a young police officer who was standing slightly to the side, face pale, hands shaking. The dark-haired woman who'd been standing by the car blocking people's view was talking softly to the young man and she put her hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture shortly before she walked up to the ambulance.

I quickly walked up to the ambulance too, stupidly called out "Mary" and the kind woman turned towards me.

"Do you know Mary then?" she asked with her eyebrows lifted.

"Yes, she was coming to see me... when she..." I answered, hearing the distress in my own voice.

"Then you should go with her to the hospital," she said with a decisive nod "I need to get my car out of that mess over there, and then I'll come too!"

I realized that she thought I was Mary's partner, boyfriend, husband or something like that and I didn't stop to correct her. I just jumped into the ambulance, took Mary's pale hand in mine and started praying, silently reflecting that it was the first time in years that I asked the lord for a miracle, at the same time imagining Mary's dry laughter at the idea if it all.

* * * * *

I woke up with a silent, panicked scream, then desperately tried to figure out where I was and what had happened. My mind was sluggish and I had difficulties sorting old painful memories from the somewhat painful reality. I was lying in bed and I couldn't move, but I wasn't tied up. My senses were off, I couldn't smell anything and when I tried to see there was just darkness. The only thing that seemed to be working was my sense of hearing.

I wanted to laugh but it seemed I couldn't. I had once been told that your sense of hearing is the last thing that abandons you before you die and I had thought it was complete bullshit, but perhaps there was some truth to it. Then I realized that destiny, divinity or just life was laughing at me. Hadn't I just recently been thinking that my perfect partner would be a blind person who couldn't feel the state of my scarred skin? It seemed sort of fitting that the all-seeing eye would have a sick sense of humor, at least when trying to communicate with a reluctant bastard like myself. What was the idea of it then? Was this a sign that I had to learn to love myself, before it was too late?

I remembered it then, my drive through town, my calm contemplations of a life that had turned out pretty okay in the end, then the car crash and the darkness. I had been unconscious, I didn't know where I was, I couldn't move, and I felt panic rising in my body again. Death had come a bit too close, a bit too fast; I hadn't checked all the boxes on my long list yet. I couldn't, I wouldn't go until it was all done, until I was damn well ready.

"But I'm not done yet..." I whispered to myself through dry and chapped lips.

"What's not done yet?" a soft voice asked.

"William...? Life, and all sorts of things related to living..." I whispered softly in answer.

"So tell me?" William said, also in a whisper "I can help..."

"You've got two strong arms... so you can help..." I whispered back, attempting a small smile.

"Well, the spirit is willing at least," he answered with a soft laugh "and, no offense, but I think that mental strength might be what it takes..."

"Okay," I whispered "then first, how long have I been unconscious, what kind of injuries do I have and are they giving me any type of drugs, painkillers or calming medications? Why can't I move, see or smell anything?"

"You've been unconscious for close to two days, you hit your head in the car crash and broke a couple of ribs and I don't know about the medications..." he answered quickly "I should go get a doctor to answer your questions..."

"No, stay, just a few more minutes..." I whispered, yawning "I need to sleep, please stay, just for a little while?"

"I'll stay for as long as you need me to," he answered softly "sweet dreams..."

"Are made of this..." I answered in a soft whisper before I fell asleep "who am I to disagree..."

* * * * *

She fell asleep in the middle of a sentence and it made me remember the way she had fallen asleep in my office a few weeks back. She still looked as calm and peaceful as a child, despite the bruise on her cheek and the paleness of her skin.

I suspected that I had been sitting there for too long, because the sleeping version of Mary was starting to look more and more like my daughters, Zelena in particular. It was the shape of her eyes, when they were closed, the size and shape of her mouth, her decisive chin. When she was fully awake, it was the eyes that pulled you in, but when she was sleeping it was possible to really see the rest of her. And her face was looking more and more familiar.

I felt shivers run up my back and I quickly shook the thought off, the world couldn't be as sick as that, could it? I was interrupted by the door opening softly and a familiar dark-haired nurse walking in, followed by a young man carrying flowers in his hands. I couldn't tell what kind of flowers they were, but they were beautiful and smelled like sweet summer.

"She's not yet conscious," the nurse said softly to the young man "but we're hoping she'll come around soon."

"Actually, she woke up shortly just ten minutes ago..." I said softly.

"She woke up," the nurse said a bit too loudly "and you didn't think to call a nurse or a doctor?"

"Well, she woke up, talked for a while, then fell asleep again...?" I answered.

"We need her awake to know more about her injuries!" the nurse said and lifted her hands up in a desperate "what kind of an idiot are you" gesture.

"I'm sorry" I said, and I really was.

I studied the young man who had walked up to the foot of the bed. He stood there looking at Mary, his eyes dark and thoughtful. I recognized him then, it was the police officer from the day before, the one who'd seemed shaken by the scene at the crash site.

"Do you know Mary then?" I asked him and he looked up at me with a crooked half-smile.

"I'm not sure you can ever really know Mary...?" he answered softly.

"Yeah... you do know her alright..." I said with a small smile.

He walked up to the table by the bed and placed the flowers there, accidently spilling some water on top of the notes that I had carelessly thrown there when Mary had woken up. He hurriedly picked the papers up to save them from getting drenched. He started to reach his hand out to give them to me when it seemed he saw something on one of the lists, the shortest one, the one with the songs she had sung to me. He stopped his movements so he could read it all through, then he wrinkled his forehead and looked at me. His face turned almost as white as Mary's and I could see emotions playing in his eyes. I saw confusion, anger and then sadness, before he handed the papers to me and whispered "congratulations man". With a few long steps, he ran out of the room and left me, the nurse and Mary. When the door closed behind him there were two conscious and very surprised people left in the room, both of us wondering what had happened.

* * * * *

She loves him, those three simple words kept echoing in my mind as I ran out of the room. She loves him? She loves him! It had been right there, in black and white, on that paper. It wasn't a particularly difficult code she'd been using either, probably because she was trying to communicate with an idiot. An idiot who hadn't called for the doctors when she woke up, an idiot that hadn't been able to understand what she'd been trying to tell him. An idiot... that she loved...

She'd been singing those songs to him, the lucky bastard. She had used her wonderful voice and the perfect words of those songs, and he didn't have a clue. The note had said it, with question marks all around it, "songs that Mary sang when she told me her story".

Her story, told in songs, like she'd been doing with that singer-songwriter that Eric couldn't stop talking about. She'd been strumming her own pain, telling her own life with her songs, and I wished I could have been the sole member of her audience. I hadn't known it, but then all of a sudden I did. It was madness, but it seemed I loved her. And she loved... him.

The list of songs, they were all so very... Mary; a strange but perfect mix. It's a sin, Lovefool, Only the lonely, Valentine's day, Everybody hurts and Universal child. They were all sad, with deep meaning if you listened long and well enough. Some of them had a whispered sort of hope in them, but... there was no hope for me. The songs spelled it out - I-LOVE-U - and... she loved him. I spent a second wondering why she hadn't spelled out YOU, when LOVE was spelled out in full, it didn't seem like Mary somehow, but then I realized I really didn't know her well enough to make assumptions about... anything.

I walked out of the hospital, my mind filled with thoughts of things that could have been, that never had a chance to become. Sometimes life really did suck ass...

* * * * *

When I woke up again I felt more like myself, my senses were all there, if not yet fully, and when I slowly turned my head just a few degrees I saw the slightly unfocused image of William sitting by my bed, sleeping. He had a notebook and some papers in his lap and the top paper had something written on it; it looked like some kind of list. I turned my head a bit more and realized that someone, probably William, had bought my favorite flowers, and I wondered how he knew...?

I found the remote for the bed and pushed the button to lift the head of it, so I could sit up. William woke up and looked at me with tired eyes. I wondered how long he had been there.

"I'm glad that you're here," I told him with a small smile "but what about your kids?"

"The girls are with their grandmother," he said with a small smile "and according to all sources, they're doing just fine."

"What day is it?" I asked, afraid of his answer.

"It's Monday, and it's been three days since the accident." he answered "And I'm supposed to call for the doctor when you're awake, otherwise a very decisive nurse, and close friend of yours, will have my head for sure."

He pushed the button and I looked him over once more. He was tired, but it was more than that, he seemed fidgety and not quite himself. He kept glancing towards the door, as if he was both waiting anxiously for someone to walk in and dreading it.

A nurse came walking in and William drew a deep breath at the same time as he let his shoulders relax. He was nervous about meeting someone who could walk in at any time it seemed. Probably someone who worked at the hospital, maybe that same someone who had promised to take his head off. Elena, of course, she did have a temper on her too, it wasn't really a good thing to get on her bad side.

A doctor walked in just moments later and started poking at me whilst asking questions and reading and taking notes on a thick pile of paper.

"We didn't know about your condition when you came in, we've only just got the file from your doctor, but to tell you the truth we haven't done much, except for patching up a few bruises and keeping you hydrated." the doctor said with a dry, professional voice.

"What condition?" a soft voice from the doorway asked.

I turned to look at Elena, who was standing by the door and when I looked back at the doctor he was staring at me with a question in his eyes. I nodded, this was not the time to hide from the truth. They might as well be told now as later.

"She was diagnosed with leukemia a couple of months ago..." the doctor answered.

"No," Elena said, her voice loud and hurt "because if she would have had leukemia, then she would have told her friends, wouldn't she? She would have told them because she knows they care about her, she knows they love her!"

"I love them," I said slowly, looking at my friend "and that's why I didn't tell them. Why should I burden them with my problems, when I only want them to be happy?"

"Because that's what friends do," Elena cried "they tell each other important things, they lean on each other, they care for one another..."

"Yeah..." I whispered and looked at William "I've never been very good at leaning on anyone... perhaps it's one of those fundamental flaws in my general makeup I've been talking about..."

"I have to call Sean," Elena said and started walking out of the room "he needs to know, Rose needs to know..."

"No," I answered, my voice sharp and rough "you will do no such thing!"

She turned back and looked at me, shock written all over her face.

"No, you will not tell anyone!" I said slowly "Remember that talk we had about hospital ethics and privacy rules?"

She nodded and I could tell my words were hurting her, mentally and physically.

"I don't want Sean, Rose and the rest of them to know." I whispered "I just want them to be happy. I want life to go on. I've worked too hard..."

I stopped my pleading words and turned my eyes on William again. I could tell that he was angry and disappointed in me. His eyes seemed to say that I was being unfair, and I knew he was right, but I just couldn't...

"I will not tell them," Elena answered "it might kill me not to, but I won't".

She left the room and I felt tiredness wash over me. The doctor started talking again, but I didn't hear him. All I could think of was the hurt expression and tears on Elena's face as she left the room. I didn't want anyone to hurt because of me, and I hadn't done a very good job to prevent it. I woke up from my thoughts when the doctor's tone of voice became distinctly angry. I looked up at him and I could tell that he was upset.

"... and after they were unable to find a donor, you said you didn't want any of the suggested treatments. Basically you decided to slowly kill yourself. And then killing yourself slowly wasn't good enough, you decided that crashing your car into something hard would be much more to your liking?"

"What?" William said, his voice loud and shocked.

"I read about all of the suggested treatments, and all sorts of experimental treatments, and I calculated my chances, they weren't good. And after agonizing what treatment to choose, which way I should go, I realized that... I couldn't..." I said softly "because... I'd rather be me without medicines and drugs, than me, heavily medicated. I'd rather go quickly than live a few more painful months as a drug company test animal. As for the car crash, no, I had not decided to kill myself.

The doctor muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a few well-chosen curse words before he left the room.

"So," William said, his voice surprisingly sharp "you are dying, and that's why you came to me? To help process your past, to prepare for your future? To settle the scores and ask for forgiveness?"